Vente y Nueve
by JGT-298
Summary: Following Kingpin, Ghost and the gang survived the debacle at San Victorio. But Shepherd gave them another thing to worry about...
1. In Time

_**Alright, time to end this trilogy!**_

_**Vente y Nueve.**_

* * *

November 6, 2014.

San Victorio, Brazil.

10:40 p.m.

The town was torn apart as three men ran for the safety of the town hall. Along with them came nearly every civilian they could get their hands on. Adrenaline was coursing through them as bullets flew around and RPGs blasted the earth beneath them. Occasionally, they had to stop to take a breath; they did so as they engaged their assailants with precision. The town hall was so close yet so far away. None of the three could tell how many they'll save, but one thing is certain: they had to keep these civilians alive; no matter what the cost.

"RPG! INCOMING!" yelled the one in the ski mask. His companion; a blond man in a red Hawaiian-patterned shirt; dove for the nearest piece of cover to shield himself from the shrapnel. Debris rained down upon him when the explosive hit the building behind him. He raised his weapon and popped off a couple of dozen rounds downrange; not appearing to hit anything as their targets hid. The one in the ski mask pulled out a grenade, ran up to the new hole in the wall, and threw it on the ones keeping them down. The people inside the technical were caught unawares, and were soon engulfed in an explosion that knocked down anyone near it. Before the masked one knew it, he was suddenly seized by the throat by someone behind him.

"BLOODY HELL!" he screamed. There he saw his attacker: a green-shirted man with a machete in hand. The masked one attempted to pull his sidearm out, but the assailant stomped on his hand. The machete-man kneels down and prepares to smack the soldier with his blade, but before he could do that, another one of his compatriots came in and shot the machete-wielding thug with his pistol.

One...Two...Three...Four...Five...

The greenshirt tumbles down on the nearby sofa, dead. "You alright, Ghost?" asked the masked man's saviour. "Yeah, thanks Meat!" he replies as he got up "Where's Roach?"

Downstairs, Roach was still trying to hit something with his Kalashnikov. He wasn't faring any good, seeing as his sights were misaligned; probably because of heavy use by the thugs who used to own this weapon. Eventually, he ran out of ammo. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and pulled out his 9mm PT92 and proceeded to fire upon the thugs cornering him and the hostages. Fifteen rounds he now had, as well as 12 spare magazines. To his luck, his two comrades came down and laid down the smack on the enemy. With commandeered Pechenegs, no less.

"Get some!" taunted the Afro-American, Meat. The concrete surfaces the rest of the thugs were hiding in got chipped off one by one, until nothing remained. They were forced to scour any remaining pieces of cover in the field, only to be cut down by the hail of lead put forth by Ghost and Meat. Those that DID survive were shot by Roach. When the dust settled, the thugs were nowhere to be found. The civilians took a peek to see if the commotion is over.

"Come on, we'd gotta get to the town hall! They'll be back anytime!" a frantic Ghost exclaimed.

Meat signalled the civilians to follow him and his group. The civilians; numbering 150 at the very least; followed the three without question. All went well until they arrived...

"Fuck..." Roach muttered.

There were technicals everywhere. All of them locked in an intense firefight with what remained of San Victorio's police force. Meat told the civilians to pull back just a block away and hide. Ghost, remembering something that could be useful to them at this moment, took out his radio and began to speak.

A certain distance away from the town, two snipers were heading back to base on helicopter. That was then one of them heard a transmission.

"Archer, do you and Toad have eyes on San Victorio?"

The duo wasn't sure who was contacting them. Archer asked "Ghost, is that you?"

"Roger. Archer, do you. Have eyes. On San. Victorio?"

"Uhh...lemme check..." Archer looked around the night sky with his NV goggles activated. He caught a glimpse of a small town with flashes of light and smoke coming out of it. "Roger. I see it." he finally says. "Right, do you think you and Toad could provide sniper support?" Ghost asks, seemingly calm as bullets and explosions kept permeating the sound quality. "Uh, I think..." Archer says "Let me check with the pilot first."

"Pilot! Are we at bingo fuel?"

"No, we still have plenty of fuel left. Why do you ask?"

Archer reloads his sniper rifle. "Head West, there's a town there called San Victorio! Ghost and his team seem to be needing sniper support!"

Toad groaned. Archer could only glare at his spotter before relaying this message to Ghost:

"Ghost, keep your shit tucked! We're comin' in hot!"

Ghost and his team were now locked in a three-way battle between the cops, the thugs, and them. They were slowly running out of ammo, and the thugs are gaining ground. Meat was wrestling one goon for control of his FAL, while Roach was busy knifing any thug that came close. Ghost, on the second floor of a nearby building, was putting the last magazine he had on his AKM. Just then, a thug wearing a wife-beater and holding a baseball bat entered the room where Ghost is in.

"Oi! _Filho da Puta!_" he yelled.

Ghost quickly dodged the bat, causing it to hit the window behind him. The Brit pulled out a knife and tried to stab the mofo in the head. It didn't work, since the thug blocked the blade with the baseball bat. The thug threw away his weapon and tried to beat Ghost with his hands. Unfortunately for him, Ghost already pulled his pistol out and did a Mozambique Drill faster than Tom Cruise did in _Collateral_. Two to the torso; one to the head; the stupid thug drops down dead.

That was when another couple of thugs barged in. Ghost readied himself for another beating, but then someone sniped the two, splattering brain matter all over the wooden floors.

"You'd think we'd let you down, Ghost?" Archer asked.

"Bloody good to hear from you, mate!" Ghost exclaimed in joy.

The Brit looked up the windows; there he saw a chopper, with what appears to be two men in ghillie suits holding sniper rifles. As Archer works the bolt on his rifle, Toad grabs an M14 EBR and starts blasting away at the morons below him. Together, they've managed to rack up a killcount of 141 thugs. Ghost went down to his teammates positions, told them to regroup, and ordered them to fix bayonets. By "fixing" he means "tie you knives to your guns, ASAP!"

"What for, sir?" Meat asked

"We're gonna catch them unawares," Ghost replied "they've already got the cops to deal with, as well as Archer and Toad. If we charge 'em, they'll fall into disarray and then Archer and Toad'll pick them off. Meat?"

"Hmm?"

"I want you to go tell the crowd to yell once I give the order to charge."

"Sir, yes sir!"

"Roach, if you're out of ammo, take this." The Lt. took an FAL off from a dead punk and gave it to his subordinate. Roach inspected it, as is typical for him. "Tie your knife on the barrel and use it as a makeshift bayonet." Roach nods. Then, Meat comes back and tells Ghost that the civilians have understood his orders. "They're waiting for your signal..." Meat says.

"Alright..."

A tense look appears on everyone's eyes. Ghost slowly raises his left hand.

"Five..."

Roach lights up a cigarette as Meat surveys the carnage.

"Four..."

The civilians' eyes are plastered with fear and uncertainty. Ghost's hand slowly rises.

"Three..."

Ghost's eyes glance toward Archer & Toad's chopper. Sweat drips down from everyone's foreheads.

"Two..."

Everyone holds their breath as Ghost's hand falls.

"CHAAARGEE!"

All three advanced toward the unsuspecting thugs. The thunderous roar of the town's inhabitants freeze the goons as they slowly get shot up by the police. Ghost thrusts his bayonet towards one thug's hip, then evading another's machete strike. He pulls out the bayonet and stabs his assailant in the head, firing off two shots while he's at it. Roach, meanwhile, empties his magazine on four whole targets before skewering one thug in the back. The Sergeant then mans the derelict machine gun on a technical's rear and started to rain hell on the mercs. Meat, seeing a thug aim his Dragunov at Roach, pulled out his sidearm and shot him in the head. The Afro-American then aimed his Kalashnikov at a goon with a bolt action rifle, dual wielding the assault rifle with his P99.

Suddenly, a thug aimed an RPG at Roach's MG emplacement. Before the rocket could hit, however, Toad picked the merc off with a clean shot to the head. The rocket went flying to nearby technical instead, hitting it square in the driver's seat. The blast knocks some thugs back, allowing Roach to shoot them while they're down. Meat continued to fire at the enemy, alternating covers when needed. Ghost was doing the same; but with slightly more stabbing.

Eventually, the thugs' morale had begun to waver. One by one, they either fell or left the field. Ghost was about to chase them down when a Brazilian SWAT officer stopped him. "Hey, you! Hands in the air!" he yells. Ghost glances at his two teammates; they all knew what'll happen next...

* * *

"I still can't believe they decided to bring us in!" Meat complained.

The three of them were now languishing in a cell, with Meat downing a whole pack of cigarettes; Roach playing harmonica; and Ghost banging on the steel bars out of boredom. "Meat, they're not arresting us..." Ghost explained "...they're just holding us here until someone gets us." Roach scoffed. The Lt. glared at the Welshman, who just shrugged. Then, they started to hear footsteps from the outside. All of them stood up, trying to see who came to bail them out.

"Oh, shit..." all three muttered.

It was Price. And he was absolutely PISSED. A scared-looking police officer was escorting the Captain to where the trio were being held. Roach kissed the rosary his lady friend Cristina gave to him just a couple of nights earlier while Meat was muttering a Hail Mary. Ghost looks like he's about to be shot at dawn.

"A-are these y-y-your f-friends?" the officer stammered in English.

"That is not want you want to know, officer." Price replies in a threatening manner. The cop backs down as Price turned to Ghost and gang "You three, come with me."

They followed the veteran without question. When they reached the outside of the police station, they were greeted by their acquaintance Major Silva and a Brazilian general. "You're lucky to have us bail you out." whispered Silva. Ghost chuckled, saying that he must've been real lucky to have that bail in reply. Price had the three board a blue Ford sedan that wasn't exactly in the best of shape. Anxiety was now all around. The three tensely watched as Price started the car up. With some help from Major Silva, Price left the police station.

The following ride wasn't a pleasant experience for the trio. Price was pissed; San Victorio was shot up; and they've _almost_ brought about a diplomatic incident between Britain and Brazil due to that hi-profile stunt they've pulled. Maybe that's why Price was pissed in the first place...

"You do know why Major Silva and the general were there, right?" Price asks.

The trio shook their heads. Price glared at them from the rear-view mirror before continuing. "The 141 needed someone who could convince the mayor of the town to let you buggers go."

"W-what about Archer and T-toad?" Ghost dared ask.

"They're already back at base." Price replied "Listen, you three, that little stunt you've pulled wasn't exactly how the 141 does things-"

Roach interrupted "-But the civilians!"

"I can understand _why _you did it, Roach!" Price yelled "What I don't understand is _how_ you guys thought that shooting up an entire town, causing a huge amount of casualties, is such a good idea!"

"Are we getting court-martialed for this, sir?" Meat asked.

Price shook his head. "No, the Brazilians are letting you off scot-free because of your help dealing with the thugs." Ghost breathed a sigh of relief. "But, due to the extensive damage you've caused; as well as exposing yourselves to the news cameras; you three'll be getting a new punishment..."

The trio groaned. Then, Meat realized something, "Wait, we got caught by the news cameras?"

Price nodded. "Lucky for you, Major Silva convinced the networks to destroy the footage."

Meat muttered a silent 'Thank God'. The ride lasted another thirty minutes; then, they arrived at their new destination. It was the same Brazilian Army installation they stopped by before _Kingpin_ started. Price parked the car next to some utility trucks, motioning the three to come with him. Ghost looked around him and saw several Brazilians packing up. 'Seems like this was just a temporary installation' he thought. The weather was cloudy, and there was plenty of wind blowing about. Soon, they reached the command tent, where General Shepherd, Captain MacTavish, Archer, and Toad were waiting.

"Ah, welcome back, gentlemen!" Shepherd greeted. The four new-arrivals saluted the officer "I see that _Operation: Kingpin_ was a success...though, I've heard about that little incident at San Victorio. Unfortunate." Shepherd took a seat behind the planning table and drank from his coffee cup. "Gentlemen, I don't mind you running off to rescue civilians. But, doing so in a manner like that..."

"One thing led to another, sir. We're sorry..." Ghost said.

"I know you are..." Shepherd took out cigar and asked MacTavish for a lighter. The Scot handed it to him immediately afterwards. "Well," he continues "it seems like a proper re-orientation on "stealth" ops is order." The American pulls out a map of an archipelagic country and a butterfly knife and placed it on the table. He asks Ghost "Lieutenant, do you know what country this is?"

Ghost nodded. "Yes sir. It's the Philippines."

"This is your next assignment." Shepherd says "The CIA has tracked one of Makarov's associates-a bomb maker-down to this country. Find him, bag him. If necessary, kill him. Capt. MacTavish will be going with you on this one. Remember: do things quietly. I don't want another San Victorio incident." The Brit nods as the general takes a drag. "Hit the showers, put on civilian clothes, and leave. Next flight to Manila is 1200. Dismissed!"

Everyone inside saluted. Ghost, Roach, Meat, and Soap all bid their comrades Price, Archer, and Toad goodbye. They all got on the blue Ford Price drove earlier and set course for Rio de Janeiro.

"Why do I keep sensing that everything'll go to hell?" Meat asks.

"Because, mate," Soap answered "everything will...**in time..."**


	2. Really, Roach?

_**Vente y Nueve: Part II**_

* * *

The flight to Manila was long and tiring, but Soap and his team managed to pull through. They landed in a Philippine Air Force base, where they were greeted by a contingent of green-uniformed soldiers. One of them, a man who looked to be in his late thirties, came up to MacTavish and offered him a handshake. "Ah, you must be the British special forces command told me about." Soap shakes the soldier's hand "My name is Capt. Chester Guevarra;" the shorter one says "Philippine Army Scout Rangers." he says.

"Capt. John MacTavish" the Scot replies "22nd SAS." He then points to his team "The one in the mask is Lt. Simon Riley; the blonde one is Sgt. Gary Sanderson; and the African-American is "Meat"."

The other Captain looks at MacTavish with a confused expression. "Why Meat?" he asks.

"Dunno. Personal reasons, I guess."

The three men behind Soap saluted the Ranger, who did the same thing in reply. "We heard about your terrorist problem, Captain." Guevarra says "Come, we'll brief you about the situation..."

* * *

At his office, Capt. Guevarra started to place maps and intel photos of the 141's target all across the table. From maps with arrows scribbled on them, to possible photos of their target. "Do you know this man?" he asks, pointing to a photo of a bald Caucasian with a goatee. "Yes," MacTavish replies "his name's Anatoly Kravchenko; Gen. Shepherd told us about him."

"Well, he's been causing problems for us too, Cpt. MacTavish." the Filipino replied "Several city districts all across the Philippines were bombed; Manila, Quezon, Cebu, Davao; NICA traced the bombs back to your man, Kravchenko." He then took out a bottle of liquor lying on a table nearby. "Since this is your operation, how do you suggest we proceed?"

MacTavish rubbed his neck, trying to formulate a plan. It was then he remembered about the San Victorio trio's punishment. He glanced at Ghost; who was twirling a butterfly knife near the door; then to Meat; who was sitting on the extra chair; then to Roach; who was giving his signature death glare. "Well, we should do this quietly, Captain. We'll go undercover, and take him down right under everyone's noses." he suggests.

His counterpart poured some liquor into the shot glass and quickly downed it. He then nods in agreement with MacTavish's plan after some consideration. "Difficult, but not impossible." he declares. Looking at MacTavish, he says again "We have to search the whole of Metro Manila for him, though. But chances are good that he's hiding in one of the poorer districts in the city. If he isn't in the city, then he's hiding somewhere in Central Luzon, with the NPA..."

The Scot chuckled. "You still haven't dealt with them yet?"

"Well, the PNP is dealing with them, now. But we're still cleared to fight with them if we see them."

"Whatever you say...when will we start?"

"Tomorrow. There's a safehouse just a short distance away from here that you could use as a temporary base." Guevarra takes out a piece of paper and scribbles some notes onto it "Here is the address. Meet me at Luneta Park; 1000 hours..."

MacTavish took the paper, got up, and thanked Guevarra for his time. He motioned his men to follow him to the safehouse. While they were leaving, Meat couldn't help but glance at the Scout Ranger's liquor. 'I gotta get my hands on one of those...' he thought

* * *

At the safehouse, MacTavish and his team settled down and unpacked everything they'll need for the next few days: maps, comms devices, intel photos; the whole package. Fortunately, the safehouse had air conditioning, allowing the four Westerners to cope a bit better with the heat; though, they wouldn't even mind if there was no AC...

They work for the 141, after all.

The house is a small one, painted green on the outside; white on the inside, with a red galvanized iron roof. There is a TV, a gas stove in case anybody got hungry, and a small bathroom. In truth, it didn't look any different from a lot of houses in the Philippines. Soap, Meat, and Ghost were all done hitting the showers; it was Roach's turn now. Trying to see what's happening in the world around him, MacTavish switched the TV on. He would have been content, but there was _one_ problem...

"Bugger, I can't understand any of this!"

The Scot turned to his fellow commandos and asked "Can any of you speak Filipino?" Ghost, who was cleaning his rifle, shook his head. "How 'bout you, Meat?" The American did the same thing as Ghost, but with an extra "Nuh-uh...". Soap facepalmed; then, Roach came out of the shower. "Roach, can you speak Filipino?"

"Huh?"

"Can. You. Speak. Filipino?"

"Uh...y-yeah. Yeah! Yes, sir!"

Ghost and Meat's attention were suddenly diverted to Roach. MacTavish sighed in relief. "Good. Translate what this news program is reporting. We might get some useful information on Kravchenko..."

"Wait, aren't the Filipinos handling the intel on this one?" Ghost asked.

"Well, mate, we're going to need all the info we get." MacTavish replied "News programs are one of them."

The four sat there for thirty or so minutes. A lot of the reports were of grisly murders, some car crashes here and there, gas prices rising, along with a sex scandal committed by some big shot actress. Overall, none were of use to the team. Eventually, the news program ended; being replaced by some soap opera. MacTavish, now groggy and tired, told everyone "Alright, let's call it a day. I'm hittin' the sack." before heading for the bedroom. "Good night." everyone said. A few minutes later, Meat did the same thing as MacTavish, leaving Ghost and Roach behind.

Ghost had a lingering question in his mind after Roach's revelation. The Lt. took this opportunity to ask his subordinate "Where'd you learn to speak Filipino?"

Roach blushed; "Oh...uh, hehe..."

"Well?"

"...there were a couple of Filipino girls back in my hometown in Wales, heh."

Ghost shook his head. He should've known...

**"Bloody philanderer..."**


	3. The Attack

_**Vente y Nueve: Part III**_

* * *

Day 1; November 8, 2014

0850 hours.

Location: Some diner in Manila.

MacTavish was having difficulty picking his breakfast at a local eatery. There were just too many for him to choose from: _adobo_, beef jerky with eggs, and barbecue on a stick. Lucky for him, there was no one waiting behind him. After fifteen hardcore badass minutes of testing the proprietor's patience, MacTavish decided to go for the _adobo_.

"Took you long enough..." the lady muttered in her native tounge.

The Scotsman got his breakfast and headed for the table his team is in. Roach was eating some omelettes; a maskless Ghost was eating some beef jerky, and Meat was chowing down on the barbecue. No one said a single word for the next few minutes; they just chewed and chewed and chewed.

"Man, this stuff is delicious." Meat said.

"Too right, mate." replied Soap and Ghost.

Roach was silent; his eyes fixed onto the little TV the little eatery has. A morning news program was on, showcasing some _slightly_ more upbeat news than the one's they've watched the previous night. MacTavish noticed this and asked "What are they saying, Roach?"

The Welshman looked at his Captain, then back to the TV; "Nothing that we should be concerned of, sir." he replied, taking another bite at his omelette "There's no news concerning our target..._yet_..."

Meat and Ghost already finished their meals and were now craving for something cold. That was when both men saw a street ice cream vendor; Ghost glanced at Meat and immediately deduced that the loonie had plans on buying the treat. 'I gotta hand it to him, though,' Ghost thought 'he may be a real lunatic, but at least he does his job pretty damn well...' The American got up and walked toward the vendor.

"Meat! Where the hell are you going?" MacTavish asked.

"I'm gonna buy some ice cream, sir! I'll be right back!"

Ghost sighed, got up, and told MacTavish that he'll be buying a couple of drinks. "No liquor, Ghost." MacTavish warned "We can't be smellin' like we had a bachelor party when we meet Cpt. Guevarra a few hours from now." Riley nodded. "I swear, Meat is like a kid sometimes..." MacTavish muttered to Roach, who chuckled in response.

* * *

A certain amount of time later, Meat and Ghost came back, Soap and Roach finished up, and all left. They went back to the safehouse to ready up; MacTavish thought it'd be imperative that they pack at least some firepower, due to their habit of seemingly attracting armed groups of men, as well as a phrasebook. "In case..." MacTavish says.

But really, in a country like this, would they even need that?

In the end, MacTavish brought with him an M1911, some flashbangs, blank paper, and a knife, while Ghost and the rest of the San V trio packed the same stuff they used in the incident. They didn't bring any rifles...yet. The four hailed a tricycle and set course for Luneta Park.

* * *

1000 hours. Cpt. Guevarra's watch said so. The 38-year old Captain kept pacing around, occasionally glancing here and there for any sign of MacTavish and his team. No sign of them, yet. Just a crowd going about their daily lives. With him were three Scout Rangers, all uniformed and armed. That was then he felt a hand on his left shoulder. Without hesitation, he pulled out his .45, spun around and aimed for the _tarantado_ who did that.

All he saw was a chuckling MacTavish.

"Captain! You shouldn't have done that!"

"Sorry, mate! Just decided to mess with ye! Come on, get us up to speed with...whatever you're planning."

Guevarra let out a short "Hmm," before motioning MacTavish to come closer. He produced a map, and set it on his right leg. "Alright, Captain. Intel says Kravchenko is planning to assault Luneta Park. The problem is, we don't know where. That's why I've had you come here today." The Filipino took out a blue pentel pen and started to draw circles on various positions on the map, "Your men will go undercover and wait at these positions. My men will stand guard; make sure nothing happens to the landmark." he says, pointing to the statue of Jose Rizal.

Ghost raises his hand; "So if our man, Kravchenko, decides to show his head, we'll follow 'im while you stay here?" he asks.

"Precisely. This is your operation, right? Don't worry, the police are on your side. They'll try to block Kravchenko's path..."

Ghost shrugs; "Well, that's good enough for me, sir."

As the joint spec-ops team were laying down their plans, a shady bastard in a red 1994 Elantra was setting another one in motion. He looked to be in his late forties; with a balding head and a goatee. He brings his cellphone close to his head and says "Do it." to the other one on the line. A certain distance away, a young man wearing a black jacket and gray shirt received the man's orders. The young one looked around to see if all his companions are in place. They were. They gave each other quick nods before the blackjacket boy walked to the statue at a casual pace.

No one paid attention to him; only to their personal woes. He moved through the crowd like a spectre; a spirit no one either sees or cares about. His intent: to spread chaos. One of Captain Guevarra's men barely notices the boy. When he was sure that he would go on undetected, the boy unzipped his jacket and flashed a load of bombs at the unsuspecting crowd. The Scout Rangers, who once ignored the young lad, were now treating him as if he were the bane of the earth. Manila's reckoning, so to speak.

The lad pulls out a detonator...

"CAPTAIN MACTAVISH, GET DOWN!"

...raises it near his head...

"GOMEZ! GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE!"

...and presses the fated button.

*BOOM!*

The explosion knocks MacTavish and the others back hard. Unfortunately, the attack took the lives of one Scout Ranger and one Honor Guard charged with protecting the monument. The surviving soldiers then heard gunshots, making them draw their weaponry. Since their Filipino counterparts were packing high-powered rifles and they only pistols, MacTavish dashed for the remains of their fallen comrades. An M1 Garand and a PVAR rifle. This should do it...

"Ghost! Roach! Catch!" MacTavish tossed the weapons to both men, who promptly put them to good use. Upon closer inspection, the terrorists were also packing explosives underneath their jackets. Soap levelled the pistol he used to kill Zakhaev on the platoon-sized contingent attacking the monument. MacTavish then found Meat taking cover behind and overturned fish ball cart, motioning for him to take cover. The terrorists were armed with submachine guns, but were nonetheless doing a good job of keeping them down. This went on for a few seconds more until the police intervened.

"Good, the police are distracting them!" MacTavish exclaimed "Ghost, take Roach and Meat and flank these bastards' left!"

"Men, keep them suppressed! Lt. Riley is trying to flank them! Pop smoke if you have to!" Cpt. Guevarra ordered.

By now, any terrorist stupid enough to stick his head up were either shot down by the Scout Ranger's bullets or were shot down by the cops. With all their attention focused on the cops, their left flank is sticking out like a giant "Kick Me!" sign. The stupid terrorists didn't even notice Ghost, Roach and Meat practically strolling toward them. "Right, mates. Let's top these bastards and get away quick." Ghost said "There's a chance they might be carrying Dead Man's Switches..." Roach and Meat nodded. Soon, they were behind the terror platoon. Ghost levelled his Garand; Roach aimed his PVAR; and Meat pointed his P99 at the bad guys, waiting for the golden order.

"WEAPONS FREE!"

The firefight turned into an all-out massacre. The terrorists stood no chance! The San V trio picked them off in record time; falling back once they saw the red lights under their targets' jackets. Before the Filipino EOD teams got hold of the terrorists, the dead bodies exploded into several chunks of meat, flying round the monument. The San V trio just walked away as the fireball engulfed the bodies.

MacTavish got up from his hiding spot and ran his hand through his mohawk. "Fuckin' shockwave gonna make me puke; great going, mate!" The Scot holsters his pistol and tells Ghost and Roach to return their "borrowed" weapons. Both men laid the guns down next to the corpses of the fallen Filipino soldiers.

A couple of dozen minutes later, MacTavish and Guevarra were having a discussion next to a Philippine military armored vehicle. The site has already been swarmed by news reporters eager to get a slice of the story. That is why both men fell back to where they are now: near the road and away from the scene of the crime. "Well, it could've been worse..." MacTavish said before drinking some coffee "More civilians could've died; we might've been killed; Ghost could've failed..."

"Let's not think about "what could have been" and focus on what already is, Captain." Guevarra replied. "Where are your men?"

"Dunno," answered MacTavish "must be raiding some local Dunkin' Donuts branch..."

Both of them laughed. Just then, Guevarra received a message written in paper from a young soldier. The Scotsman eyed his counterpart with curiosity, eager to know the message's contents. He could see Guevarra's expression turn from curious, to intrigued, to urgent. "_Dios ko..._Captain! We'd better head back to base. I believe we've just got a fix on Kravchenko!"

"What about Riley and the others?" Soap asked as he boarded the vehicle.

"Tell them to head for these coordinates." The Scout Ranger handed the message to MacTavish, who promptly texted the coordinates to Ghost and his team.

"Let's hope this "fix" is worth it..."

* * *

Someplace away from all the commotion, the red Elantra parked near a bakery frequented by a lot of Manila's residents. The bald man inside took a minute to assess the situation before whipping out his cell phone. "Hello, Ramon?" he asks.

"_Yes ser?"_

"_Maghanda na kayo, may bisita tayo! (Ready yourselves, we have visitors!)"_

_"Yung mga 'Kano, nandiyan na? (The Americans, are they there?)"_

_"Hindi ko alam! Basta lang, maghanda kayo! Mag-uusap tayo pagdating ko diyan... (I don't know! Just get ready! We'll talk later when I get there...)"_

*BEEP*

And just like that, the call ended. Kravchenko didn't think that the 141 would be after his neck this soon. Anger welled up inside him now. He already has the Filipinos after him, and now the West? Well, all that's left now is to make a final stand.

But wait...what about Makarov?

He could just escape the country...Yes! That's a good plan! Escape the country and find a way back to Russia! Or Kravchenko could just stand and fight...

He just sat there, contemplating his next move. Unfortunately for him, the man was unaware of who was watching him.

A few meters away, two cops were eying the red car. One of them held up the walkie-talkie close to his mouth and said:

**"Sir, we've found him..."**

* * *

_**Right, so that was the third chapter. I dunno when I'll update this story, so keep your eyes peeled! It may arrive tomorrow, or in November. This is 298, signing off**_


End file.
